Eye for an Eye Read online

  She obeyed his instructions, selecting a piece of straight timber, sawing a short length off the end, and checking it for accuracy. He nodded in satisfaction, and took her over to the first of several large heavy metal machines.

  ‘Know what this is?’

  ‘Bandsaw.’

  ‘Used one before?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘And this one here?’

  ‘Planer.’

  ‘Used one before?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter, you won’t need to.’

  ‘I could learn,’ she offered willingly.

  ‘No time to show you. You can use a drill, router, sander, all that stuff?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘OK then, we’ll let you loose on the games room set. Just holler if you have any problems, all right? Scrap timber’s stored under the bench, panels and wallboards over against that wall, mouldings and architraves on those racks, window frames in the storeroom, along with doors, hinges, catches and knobs. Nails and screws are above the workbench, and the hand tools you can see. Any questions?

  ‘Yeah, where can I go for a pee?’

  He roared with laughter. ‘I suppose you want to know when you get a coffee break too, eh? Like you’ll get the chance. The washroom’s right over there, you can get a hot drink in here, and the coffee truck comes round at lunch-time - they’ll call it over the intercom. Anything else you need to know?’

  ‘I’ll be sure to ask you if there is,’ Robyn assured him solemnly.

  Tony handed her a leather tool-belt and shambled back to his winter garden, still chuckling.

  Robyn looked at the rows of tools and her imagination started to work overtime. Just imagining the variety of damage she could do with them in Colwyn’s life made her eyes light up with an evil gleam. She pulled a scrap of paper from her purse and listed all the most devious ideas she could come up with before buckling down to work on the set she was to build.

  His ‘to do’ list wavered in front of Colwyn’s eyes as he struggled to focus on his executive planner. Kate and Alan McNamara would be arriving at any moment, and he simply didn’t feel up to taking the last vital step in persuading them to hand over their money. The spadework for the deal had been done on the boat trip the previous week, but they were still being extremely cautious about handing over their nest-egg and needed more encouragement than he currently felt able to give. His head ached and his anus hurt and nothing in between was feeling very bright either. He slumped on the couch wishing for the day to end.

  When the door buzzer sounded he stood up, took a deep breath, and with a superhuman effort assumed the necessary charm-filled persona to greet his guests.

  ‘Could you explain it to us just once more please, Colwyn?’ asked Kate, when they had been talking it through in his apartment for over half an hour. ‘I want to be quite sure I understand exactly how the plan works. Sorry to be such an old fool, but you know we have to be careful, don’t you. We’ve got no kids to look after us, it’s just Alan and me, and that money is really all we have.’

  ‘Oh honey, give the guy a break, will you? He already explained the darn thing three times today and Lord knows how many times last week. Do you get it or not?’

  ‘Well, I’m not really sure. I guess the plan is clear enough, and I’m hoping that Colwyn wouldn’t give us bad advice. But the thing is, we don’t know very much about him personally, do we? Sorry, Colwyn, you seem a very sweet boy, but that’s just how I feel.’

  ‘But honey, what more do you need to know? You’ve met him several times, you’ve seen his boat, you’re right here in his darn apartment - what more is there? He’s obviously a successful guy, just look around you! C’mon, let’s sign already.’ Alan reached into his jacket for a pen, shaking his head at his wife’s uncertainty.

  Colwyn breathed a silent sigh of relief and reached into his briefcase for the papers, only to look up sharply when Kate let out a sudden cry.

  ‘What more? Why his background, of course. Family, wife, girlfriend, children - we know nothing about that side of him, and it can tell you so much about a man.’ She turned to Colwyn. ‘Sorry to talk about you like this when you’re right here, but it’s just something I feel we need to know. Would that be OK?’

  ‘Ah, what did you have in mind?’ he asked cautiously.

  ‘To meet your wife or girlfriend, to all go out together for a drink and a chat - would that be all right? So we can see what sort of a man you are outside of business?’

  ‘Heck, honey, you might be putting him on the spot here - suppose he’s one of those gay fellas?’

  Kate gasped. ‘Oh my Lord, I never thought! Oh Colwyn, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Please! Kate, Alan, there’s no need for all this! I’ll be happy to go out for drinks with you, and no,’ he laughed engagingly. ‘I don’t have a boyfriend to bring along. The thing is, I’m rather “between relationships” at the moment. My girlfriend was tragically killed a few months ago in a car accident, and I’m still coming to terms with her loss.’

  He paused, putting up a hand to forestall their exclamations of sympathy. ‘No, really, it’s all right. Please don’t say anything.’

  After a deep breath, he recovered his usual poise and gave them a small smile. ‘Kate, I do understand what you’re saying. You’re perfectly correct, a social event does reveal more of a man’s character. As it happens there is someone I’ve just met, a very nice young lady who I’m sure would be happy to meet with you and set your mind at ease. How about I give her a call later and see if she’s free tonight? Shall we say seven o’clock at the Rose and Crown in Yonge Street?’

  ‘Well if you’re sure that’s OK, we certainly would like that. I look forward to meeting the young lady.’ Kate squeezed his hand between her withered fingers.

  ‘We’ll see you tonight then Colwyn,’ said Alan. ‘Goodbye now.’

  Colwyn showed them to the door with relief, then dosed himself with antacid before picking up the phone to call Robyn. She appeared to have some difficulty in answering.

  ‘Hello, oh hell, is this the button? Hello? Robyn… Heverill speaking.’

  ‘Robyn,’ he purred. ‘Good to hear your voice. How are things?’

  ‘Oh, fine, thanks. Pretty busy, you know, dashing about here and there as always. How are you feeling, Colwyn? Any better?’

  ‘Why thank you Robyn, yes, I’m much better now. Is that hammering I can hear in the background? Where are you?’

  ‘Um, I’m at a building site. It’s er, one of Uncle Josh’s projects that Daddy thought I should see. Jolly interesting.’

  ‘Really, you must tell me all about it later. I tell you what, Robyn, how about I take you out for a drink tonight? There’s a rather special place I’d very much like you to see, and I think you’d feel right at home there. Do say you’ll come?’

  ‘Ah. Let me check my diary, hold on a sec.’ He heard papers flicking. ‘Oh dear. No, I can’t tonight, I’m sorry. How about tomorrow?’

  ‘You can’t? Are you quite sure? You see, there are some people that I’d love you to meet, and we’re all going to this wonderful English pub on Yonge Street for drinks at seven. It would be marvellous if you could join us, Robyn.’

  ‘So who are these people, then?’

  ‘Kate and Alan McNamara, a delightful couple who are planning to invest with me. They want to see that I have a social life, and that I’m not gay. It sounds like a plot for a sitcom, doesn’t it?’ He forced a laugh and tried to ignore the spasm in his intestines. ‘Do you think you could come along and help me out, Robyn?’

  ‘Well it does sound interesting, but could you make it tomorrow night? I’d be free to join you then.’

  ‘Tomorrow? Wonderful!’ He clenched his hand round the phone. ‘I’ll get back to Kate and Alan and see if they’re able to change nights. You’re quite sure you can’t get free tonight?’ He gritted his teeth at her reply. ‘I’ll just have to wait till tomorrow then, won’t I? I’m looking forward to it al
ready. Thanks Robyn, bye.’

  He ended the call and sat back, slamming the phone into its cradle.

  After successfully rescheduling with the McNamaras, he called up the spreadsheet on his computer and frowned. Several large payments were due Friday, and he’d been counting on having their money by then to cover them. Now he’d have to do some creative juggling between his accounts and miss out on some interest payments, just to avoid raising red flags at the bank. It was just so infuriating that he had to put up with these stupid stresses, when the money had been practically in his account already. It would be a pleasure to think of Kate McNamara’s face when she found that her precious nest-egg had hatched and flown away. Almost enough pleasure to erase today’s stress, but NOT QUITE! He slammed his hand on the desk and ground his teeth, looking for a way to vent his rage.

  He pushed away the chair and stormed into the bedroom, hurling drawers open in search of his gym gear. An hour on the punch-bag might do some good and let off a bit of steam.

  He arrived in the gym to find the punching bag was already in use. Gloves on, he approached the young man who was practising his uppercuts.

  ‘Do you mind if I take over here? I’m on a tight schedule today.’

  The young man looked at him, frowning slightly.

  ‘I just need another ten minutes, OK? You can have it then.’

  ‘How about some one-on-one sparring, then? That way we can both get the practice.’

  Colwyn let his voice remain soft and persuasive while his muscles quivered with tension.

  ‘Sure, I guess that would be OK. We could do that.’

  They circled slowly, sizing each other up. The young man tried a couple of jabs which Colwyn blocked easily. He was waiting for the guy to hit him properly.

  They exchanged a flurry of blows which landed harmlessly, then one got through which stung. Colwyn felt an icy surge of rage and began to hit hard, pounding his fists into his opponent anywhere he could reach. He jabbed and feinted, striking with full force wherever there was an opening.

  He watched with detachment as the young man started to bleed from several cuts to the face, and kept on hitting him so that he couldn’t back away and stop. The other guy fought back bravely but Colwyn could see fear in his eyes. It spurred him on to a final series of vicious punches which left the young man sprawled on the floor, bloodied, white-faced, and curling up in pain.

  Colwyn tossed his gloves down contemptuously and strode off to find Harry.

  ‘There’s a mess in the boxing room that needs clearing up. See to it, will you?’

  ‘Yes, Mr. Symons. Right away sir.’

  ‘And if there are any questions later, you saw that it was a fair fight, didn’t you Harry?’

  ‘Oh sure, Mr. Symons. Understood. Anything you say.’

  Colwyn smiled coldly.

  ‘It’s a dog-eat-dog world, Harry. Remember that.’

  He left Harry gazing after him with admiration.

  The activity had banished his physical discomforts, and the victory had put him back on top of the world again, so up in his apartment he was ready to take on his next challenge. He pulled out his cell-phone and called up Robyn’s number, leaving a message when she failed to answer.

  ‘Good news, Robyn,’ he said warmly. ‘We are on for tomorrow night. You’ll love Kate and Alan, and I’m sure the English pub will make you feel right at home. Thanks Robyn, bye.’

  Once she had finally figured out how to retrieve her message and had played it, Robyn dropped the cell-phone back into her bag and made a face.

  ‘Ugh, you slimy bastard. I wish I could just wipe you away like the streak of excrement that you are.’ She looked around guiltily but nobody else in the studio was within earshot.

  It was almost five o’clock but felt more like ten-thirty after her hard day’s work. She had no plans that evening other than soaking in a long hot shower, or maybe even a bath, to take some of the aches and pains out of her muscles. She’d told Colwyn she was unavailable from sheer bloody-mindedness just to annoy him. She’d guessed from the faintest hint of strain in his voice that it had worked.

  She ran a tape measure over the wall panels she’d constructed and checked the results against the sketch. Everything was correct, so tomorrow she could put them up and join them together ready for plastering. It was satisfying to build things, even if they were only temporary. Much better than having a paper-based job like a parasitic con-man, where you didn’t contribute anything to society and just stole other people’s money.

  She brushed the sawdust out of her hair, put the tools away, and wearily clocked out for the day.

  Back at his apartment, Mike was hunched over the computer, barely grunting an acknowledgement of her cheery “hi honey, I’m home!” She peered over his shoulder at the screen, but could make no sense of the columns of figures she saw there.

  ‘Making any progress?’ she asked diffidently.

  ‘Mmm, maybe.’

  She could see that he was too engrossed to give her a satisfactory answer or to listen to her day’s news so she retreated to the bathroom for the long hot soak she’d been promising herself.

  ‘Stuff you then,’ she muttered, slipping into the bath. ‘I won’t tell you about my job. I’ll just do it all without you, shall I?’

  She eased into the hot water up to her neck and lay there luxuriating while the worst of the day’s tension drained away. She could feel the muscles in her legs twanging as they relaxed, and gently stretched them out while flakes of sawdust spread across the water.

  At last, clean and feeling loose, she emerged.

  Mike was still concentrating on the computer screen and she realised that nothing short of a total power outage would pry him away from it. She ignored him and fixed herself a sandwich, then had a belated attack of conscience and fixed one for him too. She placed it beside him with a cup of coffee, and stood counting the seconds till he noticed it. After forty, she started tapping her foot.

  ‘Hello - earth to Mike, are you receiving, over?’

  He grunted.

  ‘Never mind then!’ She left him to stew with his own cooling coffee and went to read a book.

  At ten o’clock he was still hard at it, while she really needed to talk to him about the next day. She tapped him on the shoulder and waited politely.

  He grunted.

  ‘Can I talk to you for a minute, please? Mike?’

  ‘Not right now.’

  ‘Mike,’ she said sweetly, ‘have you saved your work?’

  ‘Huh?’

  She held up the power cord to the computer and made to yank it out of the socket.

  ‘Robyn, wait!’ he ordered. ‘Don’t do that! Just hold on a second, will you?’

  His fingers danced over the keyboard while he kept shooting sideways glances to make sure she wasn’t moving. ‘Almost there, don’t touch that plug. If it’s not shut down right, the data can be corrupted - a few more seconds is all I need. There!’

  He slumped back in his seat and ran both hands through his hair. ‘Now what the hell is so important that you risked destroying a week’s work? Is the house burning down?’

  ‘I made you a sandwich.’

  His lips thinned and she could almost hear him counting to ten before daring to answer.

  ‘A sandwich? That’s it? A sandwich?’

  ‘There was a cup of coffee too.’

  ‘I can see that. Thank you very much, that was thoughtful of you. Now will you please go away so that I can work on these figures in peace? You do want me to stop Colwyn Symons, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but you don’t have to work yourself into an early grave to do it. Lighten up, will ya?’

  She pulled his chair away from the desk and spun him around to face her. ‘We can work together on this but it means talking to each other. If you’re bent over that bloody machine you’re dead to the world. Come back to real life for a few minutes and don’t be so damn serious. This can be fun you know!’

  ‘Fu
n?’

  ‘Yeah, why not? Why else would you do it? Isn’t it fun, being a fraud investigator? Don’t you get a kick out of it when you find out what some of these buggers are doing and put a stop to it?’

  ‘It’s what I do. I’m good at it. But I haven’t thought of it as fun, no.’ He considered further. ‘Maybe in the first few years, perhaps, but life sort of caught up with me after that.’

  ‘The old domestic problems, huh? Well are those bothering you now? No. So why aren’t you having fun again like you used to?’

  ‘I just work, OK? I do the best job I can, and it gives my life some purpose. I have something to do when I wake up that helps make the world a better place - I think that’s all you can expect from life.’

  ‘Balls! You can expect a hell of a lot more than that! When’s the last time you spent an evening laughing?’

  ‘Laughing?’ He looked blank.

  ‘Yeah, laughing - chuckling, giggling, hooting, whatever you want. Bet it was a while ago, huh?’

  ‘Maybe at college…’ His eyes creased in a smile. ‘The night we first discovered tequila.’

  ‘There you go, that was fun. How much fun have you had lately?’

  He sighed. ‘OK, I take your point. I’m just a boring person with no life. You know what? I can live with that.’

  ‘You’re not boring! I hardly know anything about you but I can tell that. You’ve got a lot of mystery about you and that’s always interesting. Like that case of make-up you have, the way you can change your appearance - oh, and the hairdresser said you have wigs too - what’s that all about?’

  ‘Just stuff I use for work, when I need to follow someone inconspicuously. You’d be amazed what people don’t want to see.’

  ‘Go on, tell me about it.’ She liked the way his enthusiasm was sneaking past his normal reserve.

  ‘Take Colwyn Symons, for instance. I can be three feet away from him and completely invisible because he won’t bring himself to look at me.’